


Save Tonight: Ficlets

by balfey



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Claire Beauchamp - Freeform, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff and more fluff, Jamie Fraser - Freeform, Outlander - Freeform, Painter!Jamie, Photographer!Claire, WWII AU, jamie x claire, outlander fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21718333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balfey/pseuds/balfey
Summary: A collection of ficlets to complement the complete story "Save Tonight"
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 24
Kudos: 188





	1. Ficlet 01: "What Remains"

**Author's Note:**

> I've uploaded the first three ficlets on the same place as the completed story but I decided to bring them all here as I'll be adding more soon and it's easier, and less confusing, to have them all in one place! Thank you to whoever already read them or are about to. 
> 
> Complete story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183294/chapters/40402355
> 
> More coming soon! 
> 
> Ficlet 01 takes place before chapter one. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**May 1945**

_Allons enfants de la Patrie_  
Le jour de gloire est arrivé  
Contre nous de la tyrannie  
L'étendard sanglant est levé

La Marseillaise echoed in the streets of Paris. _The city of lights. The city of love._ A city wounded after years of German occupation and bombardments. A skeleton of a city, almost, with the Eiffel Tower standing at its center. A daring sign to the defeated Germans, now. Proud. _Tall. Made of steel._

As if it said: “I did not crumble. You did not see victory.”

_The war was over._

After so many years of fears, it was an impossible thing to believe. So many years of lives lost. Of hiding and counting the minutes — _the hours —_ to feel the slightest sense of security. 

_Over._

Claire didn’t know how long she’d been walking through the streets, her camera in hand and the green helmet still planted on her mass of curls. She was afraid to take it off. Afraid another bomb would drop out of the clear blue sky _— without a warning like it had so many times._

It was over, she repeated silently under her breath, a headache from the wine she’d been drinking, forming against her temple. 

Her satchel was heavy, full of rolls of film she had shot of the celebrations. _Of rolls yet to be imprinted with the images of history._ But she didn’t care. Claire walked through the narrow alleys, snapping away at anyone or anything that crossed her path. She did so until she had to stop to change the roll and then started again. 

The war had changed her. _It had changed everyone._ Though no one was ready to admit it, they couldn’t pretend it wasn’t the case. Ordinary people had been swept into this _— marked and wounded for the rest of their lives._

The lucky ones, they would be later called in history books. 

Lucky to have survived years without enough food. Years of winters spent without electricity and summers without enough water. Lucky to have survived bombs, camps. Lucky to have survived the years, long after the war had ended — when the nightmares would catch them off guard at night and images came back to them, at the most unexpected times. 

_The lucky ones._

Survivors. Soldiers. Widows. Orphans. 

So many people had perished, it would take months — _years_ — to gather lists of names. Years to give back their identities to those who had been mercilessly stripped away from it. _To reunite families. To start living again._

It would take years to build cities back up and to be able to start accepting what had happened. Accepting what gradually turned the bad into worse and then into a nightmare. It would take years for books to be written and for movies to be made. 

_Years_. But it would happen and people would know. _People would remember._

For now, celebrations were in order. _The war was over._ The Germans had capitulated. Hitler was dead. Paris was liberated — which brought back a sense of carelessness in the city. _Of freedom._

Claire had not slept very much since the news had come in the day before. After spending her evening at a little bistro with a fellow journalist and the troupe of American soldiers she’d been following for months, they all decided to move along to a bar until the early hours of the morning to dance. To drink. To be joyous for the first time since the war had broken out. Laughter had been gone for far too long, replaced by silence and anguish. 

_No more._

Of course, the sight of the city wasn’t very joyful. Buildings had crumbled. Lifeless bodies still laid on the pavement. Dust covered pretty much anything that did not move. 

But when she got back to her little room in Montmartre, the sun was already up — casting a glow over the faded wallpaper of the place. It looked like any other typical morning. Yet, it wasn’t — not really. 

_Today was the first day of the rest of her life._

Claire had laid on the bed and closed her eyes for a moment. How she wished Jamie was here right now. _To celebrate._ To know they were free, at last. Free to be. _To love. Free to exist._

She missed him all the time. Longed for him. _His touches. His kisses. His voice_ — so comforting in the midst of chaos. But most of all, she missed him right now. She would have given all she had to see his face at the news of victory. Victory for a war he had fought so bravely and paid the ultimate price for it. 

During yesterday’s celebrations, amidst the crowd, she saw him. 

Standing tall and proud, wearing his khaki uniform _— just like he did the morning he had left the field hospital._ He stood there, not moving, only smiling warmly. _Watching her._

For a long moment, she had not moved either, forgetting about the joyous chaos of happiness happening around her. She simply looked at the ghost of her love, until he tipped his hat in farewell, winked _— that terrible wink of his —_ and disappeared again. 

Quickly, she wept the tears that escaped her eyes. Today wasn’t a day for them — not after all the ones she had shed since leaving the field hospital a lifetime ago. 

Today, she would not weep. Not for herself, not for Jamie. Not for the lives lost.

 _Today, she would live._

She would celebrate with the rest of them. She simply hoped Jamie was watching over her, wherever he was, proud and hopefully happy. 

After what felt like thirty minutes of slumber, Claire had washed and left the room again to go back in the streets, still wearing her khaki uniform and Jamie’s spare white shirt he had left behind for her at the hospital. She had worn it so much it now actually looked more yellow and had a few holes in it but she did not care. In her mind, it was like being wrapped in his arms like that night around the fire. And if she tried hard enough, she could still smell his cologne on the fabric. 

Her stomach was rumbling with hunger but she was so used to the feeling that she didn’t pay particular attention to it. She’d eat at some point. Right now, she had pictures to take. 

Whenever the flash of the camera would go off, Claire was sure of one thing: she would never take pictures of pure happiness like this again. _Ever_. In truth, she hoped she wouldn’t since this type of reaction could only come after the end of the worst of tragedies. 

_Everyone was linked together by this._ Forever, they would cross paths, eyes meeting and they’d share a quick understanding. Unspoken, silent. But there, nonetheless. And this understanding was something Claire already noticed in the eyes of everyone she photographed all throughout the war years. Might it be women, children. Even the few Germans she had managed to take pictures of, shared it. 

It was over, now, she said once more, her feet taking her towards Pigalle. The first time she had come here with Uncle Lambert, it had been so full of life. Of lights and music. _Of joy._ Then the war happened and it became grey and morose, with the stores closed and the windows hidden by wooden palisades. Even today, the neighborhood was far from what it used to be but it would get back there, eventually. _Of that, Claire was certain._

Tired of walking, she sat by a bench and put her camera away. She reached into her satchel to pull out a cigarette and a box of matches. It was a habit she picked up with the Americans — after discovering the camps in Germany and Poland. _Stress relief, they’d called it._

The square was actually quiet — with only a few people around. People too busy to pay attention to her. But she paid attention to them. A couple of young lovers were sitting on another bench, holding hands and sharing a flask of something that surely wasn’t water. Sometimes, they stopped to share a kiss. Always slowly, as if they were afraid it would be the last. 

Near the fountain, an elderly woman was praying, eyes closed and hands clasped. Claire briefly wondered how many prayers have been muttered to god during the last five years. She also wondered how, if there was one, God could let anything like this happen to his creation. 

She took a drag of her cigarette before taking a picture of the couple. It was quick, brief, they didn’t even notice it. The tableau before her seemed like something that could happen on any given day. Just people, living their lives again. 

The simple thought brought a smile on her face and a pinch to her heart. She had no news of Uncle Lambert and no other relatives. The only man she had ever loved had become dust at the mercy of the enemy and the child she didn’t know she bore had joined him before she even had the time to realise she was pregnant. 

She was alone in a battered world. _She remained._ All she had were her pictures and the little room in Montmartre. It would have to do for now because Claire was exhausted. Tired of surviving for the last few years. Of living in the shadows, of looking down when she walked and of avoiding the Nazis lingering eyes every time she walked past them in the streets. 

The minute she finished her cigarette, she got up again and gathered her things. She left the square behind her. The lovers on the bench and the lady near the fountain. The strangers that were not. 

She found a bakery and purchased what they called a croissant but looked more like a piece of hard bread that had been there for much longer than it should have. It tasted like it, too. But it also tasted like freedom. _No more ration cards._

She packed the rest of it and put it in her bag as she made her way back towards the little hotel she called home. The singing was still resonating around her. So close and yet so far. She had joined the celebrations on the Champs Élysées the day before — welcoming the rush of happiness that came along with it with open arms. She had chanted and she had taken pictures. 

Now she wanted to rest. Not only her body but also her mind. Now that it was over, Claire would have to start dealing with her losses — they were many. And she wasn’t too sure she was ready to face the music, even if she had no choice. 

The more she walked, the more silence wrapped around her like a fog. 

During the war, the silence was frightening. Deafening, preparing them for what would happen next. _What would drop? Another bomb? Gunshots?_ At least, when there was noise, she knew what was happening. 

This time the silence was welcome — though slightly feared, but not for the same reasons. Now Claire was simply afraid to be left alone with her thoughts and her memories. That was something else she’d had to learn to deal with. 

The silence was broken when Claire walked by a couple of bombed houses. A pile of red bricks laid on the sidewalk, of what used to be a beautiful building. She heard whimpers. _Sobs_. 

Frowning, she approached slowly to see who was making those noises. She put her camera and bag down, carefully making her way around the bricks. 

_That was the moment she saw him._

In truth, the first thing she saw were his eyes. Big and green. _Frightened_. They were damp with tears and puffy. His face was covered with a layer of dust that made him look grey _— like a ghost_. His curls were dark, though they too were covered with the residue. 

And he was shivering, his hands pressing against his ears as if he was trying to make the most insufferable sound stop. 

At that moment, Claire saw herself lying in the ditch, back when she had been a newly trained nurse, freshly arrived from England. The year had been 1940 and things had been different. Back then, she thought this war wouldn’t last more than a month. She thought the Germans were only barking, not biting. 

Without another thought, she removed her jacket and kneeled down. He didn’t seem hurt, nor wounded. He was simply cold and most likely famished. Claire had no trouble wrapping his frail little body in her jacket and lifted him up with the most tender care in the world. 

“Sssh, it’s all right,” she whispered, holding him close to her. 

“It’s over, now,” she said out loud for the first time, that day. She almost didn’t recognise her own voice as she said it but the child looked at her, then. 

His big green eyes meeting her own. 

He had stopped crying, grabbing her arm for dear life. Afraid she would let him go. Abandon him. 

“It’s all right,” Claire repeated, stroking his cheek slowly. Her finger removed the dust, revealing the pink of his cheek. 

He didn’t answer. He didn’t smile. He simply closed his eyes and snuggled against her, his whole body relaxing. 

Claire looked around, holding the little boy in her arms. God knew where his parents were — if they were alive, at all. God knew how long he’d been alone in the street, hiding and fearing for his life. She didn’t know what to do, so she did the only thing that made sense to her: she took him to the little room in Montmartre. 

***********

When Edouard woke up, he realised two things. 

_The first, he wasn’t cold anymore._

_The second, he was still very hungry._

He heard the humming of a voice _— like a lullaby._ Sweet and soft, singing sweetly along with the noises of a kettle boiling next to it. Then he heard water being poured into a mug, like when maman made him breakfast before she disappeared with the German soldiers and left him with Madame Liliane. 

Edouard was afraid to open his eyes but he recalled what maman had told him the last time she spoke to him: _“Be brave, mon amour. You are so brave.”_

_He didn’t remember how long ago that was.  
_

Slowly, the little boy opened his eyes and it took a second for them to get used to the light in the room. When he looked around, he quickly scanned his surroundings and noticed a few things. 

A desk full of papers. A suitcase left open on the floor. A few cameras. A green helmet and a matching jacket resting on a chair. 

_Then, he saw her._

She was dressed in large khaki pants matching the jacket on the chair, and a yellow shirt that most likely used to be white. It was a bit stained and a hole on the arm showed her skin underneath. It seemed to be scratched and it reminded him of something he saw in a storybook, once. 

Her back was turned to him as she made tea but she had a lot of hair. Lots of curls, just like maman. Except Maman’s were a lighter shade, almost blonde. He wondered if she ever brushed her hair and a giggle escaped his lips when he imagined the hardship his own mother had whenever she tried such a simple task. 

The giggle stopped immediately when he realised she had heard him. He remembered he didn’t know where he was and who this was. He remembered soldiers came and took maman and papa away from him. He remembered he was afraid. 

_Until she turned around and he saw her face._

Her face that illuminated with the kindest smile the second she realised he was awake. 

_She looked…like a fairy._ Except she was dressed like a soldier, which confused him profusely but he didn’t think he should say anything about that little detail. He saw how all the ladies dressed these days. 

Edouard watched as she slowly approached the bed _— tentatively not to scare him, it seemed._

“Hello,” she finally said, her voice slightly more hoarse than when she sang. “You’re awake…”

Frowning, he wondered what type of language she was speaking. It wasn’t German, that much he was sure of. So he didn’t panic, he simply blinked a few times. 

“How do you feel?” She said, which he realised was probably a question. _But what question?_

He wanted to speak but he was paralysed. Nothing came out of his mouth. He had not been speaking for so long. And whenever he did, no one listened to him. No one listened when he cried or screamed, asking for maman and papa.

His throat was actually burning and his lips were chapped, which didn’t help the matter in the slightest. When he decided he was going to say something — _anything_ — his stomach made such noise, he almost laughed. 

The lady in front of him smiled and touched his hand, “Someone’s hungry?” 

He frowned, still watching her. 

“Do you speak English?” 

He shook his head, even if he didn’t understand what she asked. Apparently, it worked. 

_“Français?”_

He nodded slowly, watching a bit of panic go through her own eyes. They were the colour of caramels. He missed caramel and the toffees maman brought home from the bakery. 

“Mon nom est Claire Beauchamp,” she said hesitantly in French. “And toi?” 

_Who was he?_ Well, he knew the answer to that. Though he had been advised not to say his real name to anyone or the Germans would take him. But she wasn’t a German. And she looked at him the way maman used to. 

“Edouard,” he finally croaked out. Ignoring the pain in his throat, he pointed towards the water jar on the table. _“Soif.”_

“Oh yes,” she nodded, getting up at once. “Of course you must be thirsty, poor darling.” 

He still had no idea what she was saying, but she was bringing a cup over, which meant she understood what he wanted. 

Sitting down again, the lady _— who’s name was Claire —_ held the cup in front of him and helped him drink. “Slowly,” she said in English, before switching to French. 

_“Doucement.”_

Edouard was so thirsty he ignored the fact that the liquid was boiling. He drank and drank some more until the cup was empty. He was about to ask for more when she grabbed a little brown bag and handed it to him. 

He took the pastry out of it and looked at her in question. _Could he eat? Was it for him?_

Claire nodded and smiled, “Eat slowly, yes? _Un peu à la fois.”_

He didn’t know why she was so insistent for him to eat slowly but he tried his best not to anger her. He was so hungry, though, it proved difficult to do as she asked. 

What Edouard remembered of those few days at the little room were blurry memories, at first. He slept a lot and drank a lot of tea. Whenever he woke up, Claire had some food ready for him to eat — he wondered when did she take the time to go and get it for him. He also remembered not hearing the siren and the planes. _No more bombs._

When his strength started to come back and he finally got out of bed, they started to talk a little bit more. Or at least, try to communicate. Her French was horrendous but it was really funny to hear it and she didn’t seem to be able to stop talking to him _._

She gave him papers to draw things on whenever they didn’t understand what the other was saying and she even let him play with a camera. Which fascinated him. 

_He didn’t know where maman and papa were._ He didn’t think he’d ever see them again but the sadness of it wasn’t as big as it used to be. Not when Claire was around. 

One morning, she even brought him back a toffee from the bakery and he had cried in her arms before he gathered the courage to eat it. 

She held him safe at night, telling him stories he didn’t understand, soothing his curls back and brushing his tears away when he had nightmares. He didn’t understand who she was or what was going to happen. All he knew was that he had been alone for a while and he never wanted to be again. 

It was funny sometimes when he watched her, it looked like he was watching himself. When she pulled a face to make him laugh — which worked. Or when she was concentrating on a task. 

He didn’t know who she was and what would happen to him. He understood the war was over _— she had explained that much —_ he understood his maman and papa were not coming back. And he hoped it meant miss Claire would take care of him now. 

Since meeting her, no one had come to visit her. Sometimes, he heard her cry at night before she would get up and pace the room quietly not to wake him up. _Maybe, just like him, she was alone in the world now?_ Alone with no maman and no papa. _If that was the case, maybe they could be alone together?_ It didn’t seem like a bad prospect for the little boy. 

_They were the ones who remained._

The ones who had to live now. Live for the ones who had not been given the same chance _— not by a lack of courage but by a lack of luck._

He didn’t want to be away from her, ever. He didn’t want to go back to hide in Madame Liliane’s attic, waiting for her to bring him food or water. _Waiting for the war to cease._ He didn’t even know where Madame Liliane was. And even in his young age, he understood she probably was with maman and papa, never to return again. 

_No._

Edouard would stay here with Miss Claire. 

_After all, he needed a maman and she needed an Edouard._


	2. Ficlet 02: "Forever"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes places right after Chapter 10. As always, thank you so much for reading. More ficlets to come, I'm not done writing about this wee family!
> 
> Enjoy!

_**London, 1947** _

_The nightmares became less frequent over the years but remained.  
_

Whenever Claire thought she had gotten rid of the memories, they’d crept back up on her without a warning. _Slipping back in to haunt her._

Sometimes she dreamt about her time at the hospital. Sometimes it was the miscarriage. Other times, it was the horror she had discovered at the camps. But most times, she saw Jamie and his regiment being ambushed and killed — while she was unable to move. _Frozen, like a dragonfly in amber._

Once more, she saw him. _The bomb exploding next to them. The lifeless bodies laying in the mud._ She heard the screams and the gunshots. She saw Jamie, wounded. Slowly _— like she always did —_ she made her way towards him while german soldiers were running around her. The more she came close to the Scot, the more she felt him recede away from her, the life leaving his body bit by bit. 

_Then, she woke up._

_Breathless —_ panic pressing against her ribcage as if it was about to break. The room was dark. 

_It wasn’t her own._

For a brief moment, Claire forgot where she was and panicked increased. Until she felt two arms tightening around her in a protective embrace. A calmness wrapping itself around her like a fog on a misty Autumn morning. Shutting her eyes, she melted against him as the shaking slowed down. 

_Jamie._

Heart beating against her back as a reminder he was alive and well. _Returned to her._

From his breathing, she knew he was still very much asleep, the sound a soothing lullaby rocking her back towards slumber in a comforting daze. 

The rain had stopped, the sun was slowly rising up on the horizon. The light coming in the little apartment beneath the mezzanine they found themselves on. 

_Slowly, things started to come back to her._ The opening at the national portraits gallery, the number of people she had talked to about her work. _Jamie_. Seeing him in a corner, observing her, before they finally talked things through and ran under the rain towards his studio. _The night that followed._ One that was neither a first, neither a last. The thought alone was enough to make her drift back into a peaceful sleep for another while. 

They had spent all day yesterday tucked in bed. _Talking. Laughing. Making love._ A serenity found again for both of them — as if their hearts had been grafted back in. They talked about the present. _The future._ But never about the past that ripped them apart for four years on a spring day in the midst of war. 

_It was over. It wouldn’t happen again._

When Claire woke up, later on, the sun was fully out and the bed was empty — she could feel that much since Jamie was a real furnace. 

She could hear the kettle boiling and the cupboards opening. Noises that in only a day, became so familiar it was as if she had woken up in Jamie’s bed all her life. 

The last two days had passed in a haze, far away from reality and the outside world. Far away from regrets and pain. They couldn’t stay secluded in the studio forever, no matter how appealing the thought was. However, it didn’t pain Claire to know she’d be going back to reality very soon. Because this time, Jamie would be part of it. 

Not bothering to gather her clothes from the floor, she wrapped in a tartan plaid she found on the bed and made her way down the stairs of the mezzanine, letting the sun of autumn blind her slightly. She didn’t need to go outside to know how crisp the air would be against her porcelain skin. Her hair was a tangled mess of curls and her eyes were still full of sleep as she leaned against the bannister to watch Jamie at the task of making breakfast. 

An absent smile formed on her lips while he stirred the porridge in the pan with the concentration of a real chef. He briefly stopped to remove the kettle from the stove and pour its boiling liquid in two separate ceramic mugs. It had been decided yesterday that Claire’s was the blue one and Jamie’s the grey one. 

She let another minute pass before announcing herself with the clearing of her throat. 

Slowly, Jamie’s entire body language changed. He stood straight, shoulders back proudly. And when he turned around, his cherub face illuminated with the warmest smile — as if he couldn’t believe she was really here. 

“Good morning,” she said shyly, her lip flicking up into a smile. The novelty of it all was still rooted between them, though ease had settled. 

The Scot touched his heart, closing his eyes a brief second before looking at her again, “Christ, Sassenach. I dinna think I’ve ever seen anything lovelier than ye wrapped in Frasers colours.” 

Feeling the heat creeping up her cheeks, she shook her head and walked over to him. “A _‘good morning to you too’_ would have been enough, you know?” 

“I disagree,” Jamie held out his hand to her and she took it. The palm warm against hers. 

Pulling her close, his grin only broadening, “Ye are beautiful and I mean to tell it to ye every time I’ll feel like it for the rest of my days. Ye better get used to it.” 

“I guess there are worse things to get used to,” Claire tiptoed to give him a kiss, one which he responded enthusiastically. 

“Like your snoring,” she whispered against his lips before erupting into a laugh at the sight of his shifting expression. 

“I dinna ken what ye’re talking about. I canna hear anything else beside yer own snoring,” he grinned, lightly patting her bum. 

“Now before ye can argue about it, if ye may sit down,” He kissed her briefly before she had the time to protest, “Breakfast is ready.” 

“I never argue, even less when I’m promised food,” she smiled and sat down at the little kitchen table he had set. 

Jamie served the tea before bringing over the porridge and sitting down in front of her. He was wearing a paint-stained t-shirt along with some grey boxers. His curls were a tangled mess because of slumber _— and other activities—_ and sleep was still floating in his ocean eyes. 

“Thank you,” she smiled, taking the spoon he was presenting her. 

He winked _— the blinking of both his eyes at the very same time as if he had just suppressed a sneeze —_ the sight never not charming. And in silence, they started to enjoy breakfast and each other’s company. 

Claire didn’t think she’d get used to having him around like this _— not after all they had been through during the last few years._ First, the war separating them and then thinking that the other perished. It was a new feeling she relished in. A feeling of happiness, of lightness. The man she loved and longed for — he was finally hers to be with. 

_The promise of a future she had once thought impossible._

“Did ye have a nightmare last night, Sassenach?” Jamie reached for her hand slowly, resting his on top of it. 

Nodding, she took a sip of tea. “It happens, sometimes, don’t trouble yourself over it.” 

“Are ya sure? Ye ken ye can talk to me about it if ye need to,” he smiled, cupping her cheek. His palm was warm as she melted against it. 

“They’re not as frequent as they once were,” she smiled softly. “And I’m sure one day I’ll get rid of them but the war...it's still so recent in our minds, it’s not something we can escape it.” 

“Do ye think we’ll escape it for good, one day?” 

Claire shook her head, “No. In many years, when everyone will be gone, people will still talk about this — as they should. I just don’t want to dwell on the past, even if no matter what happened, this war brought me to you and Edouard. For that alone, I can’t regret getting through it. I’d do it all over again if I had to.” 

“I would too, Claire.” His voice was barely a whisper as he kissed her palm. 

_The wound was still raw._ Barely healed but it would. They were each other’s balms. 

The last two days had been so dreamlike, they almost forgot they couldn’t stay secluded alone in this apartment for the rest of their lives. 

“When is yer train to Surrey?” Jamie asked, stroking a curl away from her beautiful face. 

“At four,” her lip flicked up into a smile. She couldn’t wait to get back to Eddy and Uncle Lambert. Even more so knowing Jamie was coming along. 

“I thought I would get my things from the hotel and meet you at the station? Does that work for you?”

“Aye,” his smile broadened. “I’ll pack some things to take wi’ me and I’ll come and get the rest some other day. I also need to stop by the gallery to tell Yi Tien Cho.” 

“All right,” she finished her breakfast, getting up with a smile. “Do you mind if I use your shower again? My hair really needs some help.” 

“Suit yerself,” Jamie watched her, leaning back in his chair without a word. 

The plaid had fallen off one of her shoulders, revealing skin like porcelain. All of a sudden, she felt self-conscious and blushed. 

“Sassenach...” Jamie took her hand, pulling her closer. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asked, before he had the time to ask the very same thing. 

“Aye, I am,” he looked up at her, their eyes locking. “Are ye?”

“You wouldn’t be too amused if I said no now,” Claire smirked, cupping his cheek.

“But I do ask seriously. Do you want to leave London to be with a woman you barely know and her adopted son?”

“What I want is to be wi’ the woman I love and a lad I want to help raise. That’s what I want, Claire...if they’ll both have me, of course.” 

“I’ll have you,” she leaned down, bringing his face closer to kiss him. 

“And I think it’s time to go back to Surrey and ask Edouard about it.” 

***********

The train journey to Surrey never took more than thirty-five minutes. Wagons crowded, smelling of cigarettes, Jamie and Claire sat facing one another in one of the booths. 

While she was reading _The Times_ , glasses on the tip of her nose, the scot was studying the surroundings out the window. _The new path towards home. Tableaux of green and yellow, mixing together._ He didn’t think he’d miss London one bit, no matter how much he loved the city. 

After all, it would only be a small train ride away whenever he needed to get back. 

“You’re thinking so loudly, I can hear you from here,” Claire said with a grin, looking up from the papers. 

Jamie couldn’t help but smile, leaning back. “Och, I didn’t mean to bother yer readin’, Sassenach.” 

“What’s bothering you?” She asked, putting the papers away. 

“Nothin’ is,” he said truthfully. “I think I might be a wee bit nervous is all. To see the lad again and to meet yer Uncle.” 

Taking his hand, she watched him, “You have no reason to be, you know? Edouard just wants to see you and I’m sure my uncle will adore you.” 

“What if yer uncle thinks I’m no’ worthy of ye? What if the lad doesna want to see me again because I left once before?” 

“Darling,” she brought his hand to her lips, kissing his palm, trying not to weep at the fear in his eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s anything Edouard wants more than to see you again. As for my uncle, Lamb never tried to tell me how I had to live my life, he always supported whatever I chose to do — whoever I chose to be with. This won’t be any different than the day I refused to attend boarding school and instead ended up on a boat to Egypt with him,” she grinned, the anecdote making Jamie chuckle softly. 

“Ye’ve been stubborn since the beginning, eh? I guess yer uncle must be used to it by now.” 

“Indeed he is,” she said proudly. “He knows better than to tell me how to live my life and I’m very grateful for it.” 

“As for Edouard,” she cupped his cheek, smiling, “Trust me on that one, alright?” 

“I trust ye wi’ my life, Sassenach,” he leaned down, resting his forehead against her. “I always have and always will.” 

“Good,” she whispered before sealing their lips like a promise everything would be just fine. 

_And it would._

No matter their little talk, Jamie was still visibly nervous when the train stopped at the station. Quickly getting their bags, he followed Claire out of the wagon and looked around the platform. The very same one he’d been on once before when he came for dinner. 

“Are they pickin’ ye up?” He asked, looking around for the sight of the little boy. 

“No,” she smiled. “They probably came back from camping not too long ago. But I’m sure they’re home already.” 

“Aye, good,” he returned the smile. 

“Ready?” She kissed his cheek, smiling. 

“More than ready, Sassenach,” Jamie whispered in her hair, kissing the top of her head. 

Together, they walked towards Claire’s house, which was only a couple minutes away from the station. The last time Jamie took this path, his lips were burning for a kiss that almost happened, while his brain racked itself about what to do. 

Now, he was with Claire, on the way to a future together. He only prayed it wouldn’t be crushed by a seven-year-old who would suddenly decide his mother deserved better than a crippled soldier turner painter. 

It would break his heart to have to see Claire choose between the little boy or him. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a shriek, followed by a happy “Maman!” 

Edouard ran from the front door towards them as Claire kneeled down to catch him in a tight embrace. The sight altogether melted his heart and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Maman, I saw frogs! I caught a fish with Uncle Lamb! And then we cooked it for dinner on the fire, it was great! Can I go camping again? Please say yes! Please!” The little boy said happily, holding his mother tightly before looking at her with a begging look. 

“I take it as you and uncle Lamb had a great time?” Claire grinned, stroking his dark curls back. 

“Oh yes!” Ed smiled widely before he caught sight of Jamie and blinked. An array of emotions went through his eyes. _Surprise. Wonder. Fear, too._ But then his face illuminated with a wide grin. 

“Monsieur Jamie!” 

“Lad,” the Scot couldn’t prevent his own smile forming at the sight of the little boy who genuinely seemed happy to see him.

Edouard briefly looked at Claire for the green light to go towards him and she nodded, smiling. He didn’t need any more to sprint toward the Scot who had dropped to his knees to catch him. 

“You’re back!” Edouard exclaimed happily, holding him close. “I knew you’d come back!” 

Ed’s accent was a mixture of his native french and Claire’s English one. It was as endearing as Jamie remembered. “Aye, I couldna stay away from ye both for verra long. I hope ye dinna mind?” 

“It depends,” Ed watched him attentively, his eyebrow raising. “Do you plan on leaving again?” 

Jamie smiled, shaking his head. “Nay, no’ if ye agree that I can stay here.” 

Edouard turned towards his mother who was standing close, looking at them. “What do you say, maman? _Il peut rester avec nous?”_

“Yes,” Claire nodded, her eyes shiny with tears of happiness. “He can stay with us, my darling.” 

“Forever?” Ed asked softly before turning to Jamie again. “You can share maman’s bed because it’s the biggest one in the house! Forever’s alright for you? Or is that too long?” 

The scot chuckled softly, messing up his curls. “Nay, forever sounds good to me, _duine beag._ ” 

“He agrees to forever, maman,” the little boy turned towards Claire again, smiling proudly. “What says you?” 

“Forever it is, then.” 

Her whisky eyes locked with his, unbeknown to the little boy what was going on between the two. He would soon understand the depth of his parents’ love _— witnessing it every day as he grew up around them —_ and he would soon realise what a rare thing it was, to love someone so much. 

_Forever seemed like a long time._

However, for Jamie and Claire, it wasn’t half as long enough. But forever would have to do. 


	3. Ficlet 03: "Family"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a fee ficlet taking place two years after the last one. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_**Surrey, 1949  
** _

Autumn had slowly taken residence in Surrey. The leaves fallen on the ground. Warm light at the end of each day, kissing the sky like a hoard of cherubs. _Crisp air._

Autumn, to Claire, always felt like a rebirth. The old making space for new life. _New breath_. The leaves on the trees around the house had started to turn from green to orange, and then faded yellow; shades merging together like the ones found on Jamie’s various painting palettes. 

Jamie had moved to the cottage two years ago, almost to the day. The abandoned garage became his studio. _His refuge_. The place where he spent days confined to create his masterpieces, as Claire called them. He didn’t think they were worth very much, no matter what museums and art dealers alike were telling him. He was offered one exhibition after the other; and yet, he still refused to call himself an artist.

_Stubborn Scot, Claire thought._

Whenever he was off school, Edouard had taken a liking to spending his time divided between Jamie’s studio and Claire’s darkroom. The little boy, fascinated by how both of them dealt with their respective crafts. Some days, he wanted to be a painter like Jamie. Other days, he wanted to take pictures like his mother. And sometimes, whenever Lambert visited, he decided he’d spend his life on the road, discovering skeletons and relics. 

The little boy had grown accustomed to Jamie’s presence quite well. Shyness was sometimes still apparent between the two, but they navigated through the days together as thick as thieves. The sight alone was enough to make Claire’s heart swell twice its size whenever she caught them running around the garden, or whenever they both fell asleep during a bedtime story. 

_Monsieur Jamie slowly became simply Jamie._

Called with tenderness by a little boy who loved the Scot more than he could even begin to explain. The admiration was plain as day to everyone. From Claire, to Mrs Bird, and even to Uncle Lambert — whose visits were sparse and rare — everyone knew how much Jamie meant to Ed, and how much Ed looked up to the Scot. 

When Claire woke up that morning, the crisp autumn air she loved so much had slipped under the duvet, bringing with it an unpleasant shiver. Since spending her nights with Jamie, she often forgot the human furnace sometimes liked to get up before she did, leaving the bed cold in the process. Whenever that happened, she would let out a displeased groan as she hugged the covers tighter against her body. One of her feet was colder than the other, one of her socks removed _— most likely by her own doing —_ sometimes during the night. A childhood habit she’d never been able to get rid of. 

The house seemed quiet enough — a good indication that her son was still very much asleep — and she let her eyes adjust to the orangey light casting a glow inside the bedroom of the cottage. 

Languorously stretching like a graceful cat, she shivered slightly before deciding to go inquire where the Scot had gone and to see if some tea was ready to warm her bones. She also had to get ready for her three-day trip to Paris. Invited by the prestigious University of La Sorbonne, Claire had been asked to give a lecture, not only about her photographic work but also about the job of war correspondent. As much as the trip excited her, she was a bit nervous. She attributed her nerves to her hatred of talking to crowds. 

_Plus, it would be the first time her two lads would be alone without her._

Gathering all her energy, she got out of bed, reluctantly parting with the duvet before quickly grabbing her robe. Tying it at the waist, she didn’t bother to retrieve her lost sock before making her way towards the kitchen, one foot bare. 

The small light of the kitchen was turned on, though the door was not completely opened. The radio played jazz softly while the kettle was starting to boil. She didn’t need to see inside the room to know Jamie was already up to the task of making breakfast. 

“Good morning,” Claire said softly, announcing herself. 

“Good morning, Sassenach.” Jamie’s sleepy face illuminated at the sight of her. Crazy curls flying in all directions. One sock on and the trace of the pillow on her cheek — signifying just how well she had slept. 

Without another word, the Scot walked over to her and leaned down to seal their lips for a moment. His hand travelled to the swell of her bump — occupied, since the last five months, by the fourth member of their family. 

“Seems like ye finally settled durin’ the night, a nighean.” he whispered against her lips. 

“Indeed, I had,” she nodded, resting her own hand over his. The first few months of the pregnancy had brought an unwelcomed insomnia that seemed to slowly disappear as weeks passed. Now, she slept like a rock. 

“Good.” Jamie flashed her a smile before leaning down to place a tender kiss over her stomach. “‘I’m glad ye’re lettin’ yer mam sleep, _a leannan._ ” 

Whenever Jamie talked to their unborn child, Claire felt a weight press against her chest. But not a fearful one, actually. Instead, it was as if her heart was swelling so much, it could burst at any moment. After the war _— not thinking she’d ever see Jamie again —_ the idea of carrying a child, let alone another one of his was as far-fetched as one could be. Even after reuniting, she couldn’t bring herself to her dare of such thing happening again. 

_To hope._

Yet, without warning, it happened. Seamlessly, like the sun rising in the morning. Another miracle blessing them, almost like a reward for all the tragedies they’d suffered during the war years. 

For as long as she’d live, Claire would never forget the look on Jamie’s face the second he heard the news. Or Edouard’s happiness about becoming a big brother. Since then, her lads had been even more attentive to her than they usually were _— which was already quite a bit._

“Sit down, Sassenach.” He kissed the tip of her nose, stroking a curl away from her face. “Tea is almost ready and the toasts will follow shortly. The lad is still asleep.” 

“I can hear that,” she grinned, leaning against the counter. “Though, I suspect he’ll be up very soon, you know him.” 

“Aye, I do,” Jamie said proudly, preparing the french toast. 

“Are you two walking me to the station later?” she asked while observing him, resting her hand on her belly. 

“Of course.” Jamie gave her a quick glance, still smiling. “We are no’ letting the lady of the house off to Paris wi’out a goodbye at the train station.” 

“I’m going to miss you both.” Claire grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to her. 

“So will we.” He cupped her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “But it would be too selfish of us to keep ye here when the outside world wants to celebrate yer talent and work, Sassenach.” 

Smiling, she rested her forehead against his chest to hide her blushing cheeks. “You flatter me too much, James Fraser.” 

“‘Tis only the truth, _a nighean_.” He kissed the top of her head, holding her as closely as her belly would allow. It was perfectly round, not too imposing just yet. Jamie had discovered a fascination for it, one that amused Claireas much as she found it endearing. 

“Dance wi’ me,” he said softly. 

Before she had time to say anything else, Jamie was slowly rocking them to the sound of the jazz coming out of the radio. Barefoot against the wooden floor, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked.  
  
It wasn’t unusual for them to do this when the house was still quiet. It was their little bubble, unbothered and at peace. 

After what might have been a minute or two, Claire looked up at him, the corner of her mouth flicking up in a smirk. They were still dancing. 

“What is it?” Jamie frowned, stroking her bottom lip. 

Smirk widening, she pulled him down by the back of his neck and sealed their lips. What was, at first, a chaste kiss quickly grew hungrier. Pregnancy not only brought insomnia, it also brought even more lust than she usually was accustomed to. 

“Sassenach…the toasts,” Jamie rasped against her lips, growing breathless. 

_“…be damned,”_ she added, capturing his lips again. Feeling the hard marble of the counter against her back, she slid his hand between her legs. 

She wasn’t wearing much under her robe and the dampness Jamie found was enough to let a groan escape his lips. “Christ, Claire.” 

Ignoring him, she kissed the sensitive spot on his neck _— one she was the perfect height to reach._ The gratification of feeling him shiver was enough to turn her on even more. They would have probably ended up on the kitchen floor if some sleepy nine-year-old hadn’t opened the door just then, causing them to rip apart in a second, both breathless and frustrated. 

“ _Bonjour_ ,” Ed yawned, rubbing his eyes. He seemed oblivious to whatever scene he had walked in on, and both Jamie and Claire were glad for it. 

“Mornin’ lad,” Jamie greeted him with a smile, his cheeks red with heat. He cast a glance towards Claire who was adjusting her robe, still smirking. 

“Slept well, _mon chéri_?” she asked innocently, walking towards her son. 

“ _Oui_.” Smiling sleepily, he wrapped his arms around her and held her carefully, resting his ear onto her belly. “How did you sleep in there?” 

Claire watched him, stroking his dark curls back. She couldn’t believe how much he was growing and what a sweet little boy he had become. In truth, she had no idea how she got so lucky with both of them. 

Nodding, Ed smiled widely, “The baby said she slept very well.” 

“Ah, so it’s a _she_ today?” Claire grinned, leaning down to kiss his head. 

“Well, I have been thinking about it,” Ed said nonchalantly, giving her bump another kiss before going to sit at the table. Jamie had been returned to the task of making toasts and he was pouring him a glass of milk. 

“After a few deliberations, I think it is a girl. I don’t think this household needs another boy, after all,” he finished, adjusting his little glasses. Since getting them prescribed, he liked to pretend he was Lambert, moving around and speaking like a tiny version of Claire’s uncle. 

Claire and Jamie exchanged an amused look, which was not an unusual occurrence whenever it came to Edouard. 

“Also,” he said in a quieter voice, “I just really want a little sister!” 

“Four more months and we’ll find out,” she smiled, bringing his hand to her lips. “You’ll see, the baby will arrive faster than you can imagine.” 

“Aye _duine beag_ , no much longer now,” Jamie smiled, serving the toasts before joining them at the table. 

“Thank you for breakfast, darling.” Claire cupped his cheek and kissed him tenderly. 

“ _Beurk_ ,” Ed laughed before taking a sip of milk. “You two kiss all the time!” 

Turning their heads to look at him, they both couldn’t help but grin, “Wait until you find a lass, and you’ll want to kiss her all the time too.” 

“I don’t think so,” he waved his hand in the air, giggling. 

“We’ll talk about this in a couple of years,” Claire grinned, kissing his cheek and messing up his hair. “Now eat your breakfast, darling.” 

“When are you leaving, maman?” 

“The train is at 2 p.m. Plenty of time before we have to go to the station.” 

“Will you bring me back a book from Paris, please?” he begged, watching her. They had returned to Paris only once since the end of the war. It had been with Jamie last summer, and the trip had been able to soothe whatever fears Edouard had left from the place of his childhood. 

“Of course,” she smiled, holding Jamie’s hand under the table. “Any wishes?” 

The little boy shook his head, taking a mouthful of toast. “Whatever you want, maman.” 

_“Une surprise, alors,”_ she winked, taking a sip of tea. 

**********

“Lad?” Jamie called in the hall before making his way towards Edouard’s bedroom. 

Claire had left for Paris a couple of hours ago, and both of her lads were waiting for a phone call whenever she arrived at her hotel. Ed had been spending most of the time in his room, a nose in a book Uncle Lamb had gifted him, while Jamie had finished fixing the fence of the garden. 

“ _Aye_?” Looking up from his book, Edouard found Jamie leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and smile plastered on his face. 

“Would ye like some cookies wi’ milk?” 

“Yes!” he exclaimed happily, putting the book away before getting up from the carpet. 

Jamie picked him up and put him on his shoulders, going to the kitchen. “Mind yer head, duine beag!”

Giggling, Ed dodged the door frame as they entered the kitchen. He looked down as Jamie picked up a glass of milk and some cookies before seamlessly bringing him out towards the garage. 

“Do you think maman is missing us?” he asked, enjoying being carried on the Scot’s shoulders. 

“Just as much as we’re missin’ her, lad. I have no doubts about it,” Jamie grinned, putting the snacks on the table before picking him up from his shoulders and sitting him down on the battered sofa. 

“I’ve got a wee thing for ye,” he teased, taking out a little packet from one of the drawers. 

His eyes growing wider with curiosity, Edouard sat up straighter. “What is it?!”

Jamie sat next to him and handed him out the present. “Open it and ye’ll find out, _a leannan.”_

Edouard tore the brown paper apart and attentively studied the wooden snake figure he had now in his hand. It was delicately made and painted. When he turned it around, the word ‘Sawney’ was carved into it. 

“It’s a snake!” he observed enthusiastically. Since Lambert had brought him back a book about exotic animals, Edouard had not stopped talking about them. 

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, smiling. “When my mam became pregnant with my wee sister, my Da made me one just like this because I was about to become a big brother. I thought ye’d like to have one too.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, looking at him with shiny eyes. 

“Dinna thank me, lad. Ye’ll be a terrific big brother. I know it.”

“Jamie…?” His little voice grew quieter as he looked up at him, still holding Sawney. 

“What is it, Ed?” He frowned, sitting down with him. “Ye seem worried, lad.” 

“Will you and maman love me less when the baby will arrive? Now that you have your own child?” 

“Oh, Edouard,” Jamie swore he had heard his heart break at the question. “Why do ye think we could love ye any less, eh?” He booped his nose, smiling. “Family isna only by blood, _m’eun_. Family is the people ye choose to love and in return, choose to love ye just the same.” 

“Yer mam and I love ye so much, nothin’ can change it, I swear it. And it isna going to change wi’ the baby’s arrival, I promise.” 

Nodding, Edouard smiled softly. 

“Ye’re our son, lad. Nothin’ won’t change that, ever. No’ another child, either. Ye are our bairn just as much as the one yer mam is carryin’, truly. We love ye, son,” Jamie reassured him once more, stroking his cheek. 

Edouard threw himself in Jamie’s arms and held him tightly, closing his eyes. “I love you too, papa.” 

_Papa._

The word Jamie had hoped one day would come out of Edouard’s mouth. The word he had started to forget about _— after all, it was just that, a word._ One that wouldn’t change a bit the relationship or the bond they shared. Yet, hearing it out of his mouth for the very first time felt like the most delightful punch in the gut. 

“Oh lad,” he croaked out, holding him close. 

Amongst war, Jamie had found Claire, and she had found him. _His_ _Sorcha_. Claire had found Edouard, and now they were a family. Amongst tragedies, solace had inserted itself through and sealed the cracks of three broken hearts. Three hearts now mended by love, bounded by something far stronger than blood. 

_Commitment._


	4. Crowded House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire, Jamie, Edouard and Uncle Lambert celebrate Christmas in Surrey!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place some months after the last one. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

_**Surrey, 1949** _

“No, more to the left,” Claire remarked, resting one of her hands onto her prominent bump while the other stroked Ed’s curls. Feeling a faint kick, she smiled absently. 

“Like that?” Jamie and Uncle Lamb asked in unison, both manoeuvring the tree towards a more suitable place in the living room. 

“No, put it back a bit,” she tilted her head, frowning. 

“Wait, no, slightly more to the right.” 

“Here, then?” Jamie asked, exasperated. 

“Good Lord, please say yes!” Lamb whined. “I’ve already ruined a good pair of corduroys dragging this inside, now you’re making my poor old back suffer —”

Claire and Ed couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “Fine, let’s keep it there. It looks perfect.” 

“Thank God,” Lamb got up, adjusting his glasses. “You know fair well I’m not made for this sort of things, darling.” 

“You can be domestic once in a while,” Claire smirked, walking over to her uncle before giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“And it makes up for all the times you made me dig around in the dirt,” she grinned, wrapping her arm around his neck. 

“You loved it,” Lamb grinned, patting her back. 

“That’s true,” she smiled, fondly remembering her unusual upbringing with her extravagant uncle. 

Lamb didn’t visit often but whenever his work permitted it, he would come to Surrey to spend time with her, Jamie and Edouard. Always bringing with him gifts and delightful stories from his various travels. And he always made a point to visit for the holidays. 

“Uncle Lambert,” Ed pulled at his shirt, looking up at him with a broad grin. “The tree is in now, is it not?”

“Yes, young man. Indeed, it is,” Lamb pulled him up into his arms, smirking. “Time for you and I to head to the village —”

“The village? Whatever for?” Claire asked, frowning. “It’s snowing outside and I thought we were all going to decorate the tree together.” 

“Yes but we have more important matters to attend to, _maman_ ,” Ed said vaguely, hiding a mischievous smile. “We can’t tell you!”

“Fine but don’t whine because we didn’t wait for you to decorate, mon lapin,” she kissed the tip of his nose. 

“It’s all right!” Ed held onto Lambert tightly, giggling. 

“Well then, we’re off,” Lamb exclaimed, winking at Claire. 

“You both have a jolly time with the tree, we’ll be back in the afternoon. And before you ask, no we won’t tell you why we’re off and yes we’ll bring back some things from the market.” 

“All right, then.” Claire laughed, wrapping her arm around Jamie, who came to stand next to her when the two lads headed off to the front door. 

“These two together are the cutest,” she smiled, resting her head onto her husband’s chest. 

“Aye, as thick as thieves,” Jamie agreed, rubbing her back gently. 

“Where do you think they’re off to?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“I dinna ken,” Jamie grinned, kissing her lips gently. “Dinna start questioning me because I dinna have any answers for ye, a nighean.” 

“You are a terrible liar, James Fraser,” she chuckled, “You know exactly what they are up to.” 

“Maybe…” Jamie kissed her again before whispering, “or maybe no’.” 

“I won’t try to get anything more out of you,” she hit him playfully and walked towards the wooden rocking chair by the fireplace to sit on it. 

“Good,” he smiled, watching her. “Would ye like a tea, Sassenach?” 

“Yes please,” she smiled, resting her hands onto her belly. 

“Dinna move,” Jamie said quickly, disappearing out of the living room and into the hall. In a second he was back, holding one of Claire’s camera. 

“Are you trying to take a picture of me again?” She looked at him amused. “You know how it ended up the last time.”

“I’m gettin’ better,” he grinned and took a couple of pictures of his wife rocking on the chair, hands resting on the shielding place where she grew their little miracle. 

“And it takes less time than painting ye, Sassenach.” he said, matter of factly. 

“Well, you’ve been doing that too —”

“Aye but ye canna stay put for more than five minutes so a photograph is more effective.” He put the came away and walked over to her. 

“You know I hate having my picture taken. Having my portrait done is even worse because it takes so much longer and it makes me self conscious,” she admitted, getting up. 

“I dinna ken what you have to be self-conscious about, sassenach,” Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist, smiling. “Ye are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

Claire pouted, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was starting to become difficult to get close when her belly got in the way. In less than two months, they’d be a family of four. “You can paint anyone you’d like, Jamie, I don’t get why you have your mind set on me. One time should have been enough, no?” 

Jamie couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “Enough? Nay, Sassenach. Painting ye will never be enough. No matter how many times I do it, I find myself in need to do it over and over again. Do ye ken why?” 

She shook her head of curls before resting it against his chest. “I do not. Nor do I understand it, really.” 

“’Tis quite simple. Whenever I paint ye, I discover something new about yer face or about the way ye look at the world. There is nothing better to me than to try capturing that essence of yers — it’s so peculiar. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen on anyone else. I look at people, I study them, aye. But I get bored rather quickly,” Jamie gently lifted up her chin to make her look at him. 

“Unless I’m lookin’ at ye, Claire,” his lip flicked up into a smile. 

“I can look at yer forever and find new things to look at, a nighean. I love doin’ when ye’re no’ aware of it. I love seein’ the way you study everythin’ wi’ that sharp eye of yours. How ye’re constantly thinkin’ about what photograph ye can take or will take. I like the way ye look at Edouard, wi’ so much love in yer eyes it makes my heart burst. And then, when ye look at me...Christ.” 

Claire didn’t say a word, only biting her lower lip as she listened to him. Whenever he went on about her that way, she always grew shy, her cheeks turning pink and a teenage giddiness taking over her usual poised behaviour. “I love looking at you too,” she admitted, smiling. 

“Sometimes even when you’re asleep, I look at you and I think about the way you are with Ed and I. The way you’re going to be with our child. I remember the way you looked at me when we were in France...as if I was the only person at the hospital.”

“Weel, ye were the only person for me,” Jamie brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm. “I couldn’t take my eyes of ye in yer uniform...of the way those trousers hugged yer bottom and all.”

Laughing, she captured his lips with hers. Sometimes, she still couldn’t believe Jamie was truly alive and well. _That they were reunited and now a family._ It all had felt impossible at a time where all hope was lost. She had gotten used to the idea of living with his ghost _— she almost took comfort in it —_ until the day she walked into a little gallery in London and her world had been turned upside down all over again. 

_Just like the day Lieutenant Fraser had been admitted at the hospital._

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, holding him as close as she could. 

“And I ye,” Jamie rested his forehead against hers, rocking them gently. 

“Do you think they’ll be gone for a while?” She asked, a mischievous grin illuminating her face. 

“I bet they’ll be a while,” Jamie kissed her again, grinning, “If they come home early, we can simply hide and pretend we dinna hear them.” 

“Done deal, Fraser,” Claire grabbed his hand and pulled him towards their bedroom. 

***********

“IT’S CHRISTMAS,” Ed yelled, running into his parents’ bedroom. Without waiting for an answer, he jumped onto the bed over and over again. 

“Wake up! It’s Christmas!” He giggled, jumping. “Come on!” 

“Your son is awake,” Claire mumbled, an arm thrown over her face. She was snuggled close against Jamie. 

Jamie simply groaned, eyes still closed. He pulled her closer and buried his face into the crook of her neck. 

“Maman! Papa! Come on!” Edouard kept jumping, waiting for one of them _— or both —_ to finally come out of slumber. 

“What time is it?” Claire asked, yawning. “It’s still dark outside, Eddy.” 

“Early,” he shrugged and stopped jumping for a brief second. “Who cares? It’s Christmas!”

The excitement in his voice was rather contagious — even for someone like Claire who never really liked the holidays up until recently. Sitting up slowly, she turned on the bedside table lamp and looked at the little boy with a grin. “Morning to you too.” 

Giggling, Ed threw himself at her and wrapped his arms around her neck. “Joyeux Noël, maman.” 

“Merry Christmas, my love,” Claire held him close, closing her eyes. She felt Jamie shift next to him before two strong arms wrapped themselves around her and Ed. 

“Merry Christmas ye two,” the scot said in a hoarse voice, smiling too. 

Ed held them both tightly, resting his head in between theirs. Him and Jamie had matching tartan pyjamas Jamie’s mother had gotten them on their last visit at Lallybroch and the sight was rather cute. 

“Now you must get up,” Ed smiled widely. “Uncle Lambert has started on breakfast!”

“Fine, we’ll be down in just a minute,” Claire smiled, kissing the tip of his nose. “Tell him we’re right behind you.” 

“ _D’accord_!” Edouard made sure to give his mother’s belly a careful kiss before disappearing out of the room as quickly as he has gotten in.

“How is he never tired?” Claire chuckled, leaning back down. 

“Cause he sleeps at night, unlike some of us,” Jamie grinned, resting his head in his palm as he watched her. His other hand rested on her belly. 

“Is this some sort of complaining because I keep you awake at night, James Fraser?” Claire asked, her eyebrow raising. 

“No complaints from me, Sassenach,” Jamie leaned down to kiss her lips tenderly. 

“I like that ye do, even if it’s just to talk to me about anything. It always takes me back to the time we met and kept talking durin’ the nights because we couldn’t sleep or because ye were on a shift, lookin’ after me.” 

“The war feels like a million years ago, almost,” she said softly. “I remember things, images and yet...yet when I look around now, I feel like this life we have is miles away from what happened. Not in a bad way but you know.” 

“Aye, I ken yer meaning,” he smiled, stroking her cheek. 

“I never thought...I never thought we’d be like this. Safe, wi’ a home to share and bairns to raise together. I thank God every day because of all those things, I dreamed about and prayed for when I was lying in my cot and looking at ye from afar.” 

“I knew we’d reunite one way or another,” she said sincerely, looking at him. “I never had a single doubt about it, actually. I just didn’t know how or when. I thought...in another life we’d be together again. And then in another, and another. We’re bound to be together, you and I. Time and space can’t do anything about it.” 

“Aye, ye’re right,” he held her hand, smiling. “I knew I loved ye in another life and I’ll love ye again in another someday, Claire.” 

Claire traced the lines of his face with her index finger, smiling absently. “I don’t mind that I all, actually.” 

“Neither do I,” he whispered, kissing her finger. 

Moving slightly to find a more suitable position given her prominent bump, Claire cupped his cheek, “Merry Christmas, my love.” 

“Merry Christmas, a nighean,” Jamie whispered against her lips before kissing her tenderly. His hand rested on her bump, feeling a kick, “I already canna wait for the next one.” 

“It’s getting crowded in this house,” she smirked, holding him close. 

“The more the merrier, who likes to sleep at night anyway?” He chuckled, kissing her temple. 

“Not me,” she grinned, looking up at him. “But I think we should get up before Ed comes back, dragging Uncle Lamb with him.” 

“Aye, ye’re right,” Jamie chuckled, getting up first. He put on his robe and then grabbed hers.   
  
Claire got up, in turn, slowly and holding onto her painful back. She got into her robe with the help of Jamie and kissed his lips before they made their way down to see what Lamb and Ed were up to. 

“Merry Christmas!” The little boy and Lamb said together — both standing into the living room where the tree was lit up, along with the garlands. The fireplace was crackling and Christmas music was playing on the gramophone. The room was warm, smelling of pine and cinnamon and the windows were full of snow. It was perfect, with the table set full of breakfast food and tea. 

“To you too, Uncle Lamb,” Claire hugged him tightly, overwhelmed with the happiness of having all her loved ones under the same roof. 

Lamb kissed her forehead, smiling, “I hope you are both hungry because I might have gone slightly overboard with the food.”

“It’s all right,” Claire chuckled, looking at the table. “I can’t wait to dive in.”

“First, we have a gift for you, maman,” Ed announced proudly, grinning. 

“Was this the reason for your secret village visit yesterday?” She grinned, crossing her arms. 

“Maybe,” he giggled, coming to stand next to uncle Lamb. Jamie joined them quickly, the three of them smirking proudly. 

“Merry Christmas!” They said in unison, handing Claire a carefully wrapped present. 

“‘Tis from the three of us, Sassenach.” Jamie added, holding Ed into his arms. 

“Thank you, my lads,” smiling, Claire opened it to find a brand new Kodak 8mm camera. She often talked about getting one to record snippets of their lives as a family but somehow always forgot to purchase one. 

“You can make wee movies now, maman,” Ed grinned, holding onto Jamie’s as they watched her. 

“Yes I will,” Claire smiled widely, hugging first her uncle before hugging Jamie and Ed, “I love it! Thank you, my darlings.” 

“See, we listen when ye talk,” Jamie smirked, kissing her lips as Ed giggled. The scot proceeded to put their son down. “But it isna all.”

“Isn’t it?” Ed frowned, looking up at him. “But —” 

“We’ve got one more gift,” Lamb exclaimed, walking back into the living room with another box. A slightly bigger one this time. Somehow Claire didn’t even notice him slipping out. 

“What is it?” Ed asked, confused. “I didn’t come to get this gift!”

“Nay, ye dinna,” Jamie chuckled. “Because ‘tis for yer man but also for ye. Lamb and I went to get it a few days ago and ‘twas wi’ Mrs Graham, next door, until now.” 

Edouard looked at his mother with an inquisitive and suspicious look, “Do you know what is it, maman?”

“No, I don’t,” Claire smiled, sitting down onto the velvet sofa with him. “But we shall find out! What do you say, my love?”

“Aye!” Ed said happily, sounding just like his papa. 

Lamb put the box in front of them, onto the coffee table and crossed his arms, watching them open it, along with Jamie. 

Claire’s eyes widened and Edouard let out a happy shriek at the sight of a grey kitten. 

“Oh my god,” she looked at Jamie who was proudly smiling down at them. “Didn’t you say no to pets?”

“Eh well, I changed my mind,” he grinned, taking the wee cat out of the box and carefully into his hands. He sat next to them, “Lamb and I found him when we went to the village the other day and we couldn’t leave him there...Then I recalled what ye said about wanting a wee cheetah so, here we are.” 

“It’s so cute!” Edouard smiled, carefully petting the kitten. “Is it a boy or a girl?” 

“Tis a lad, a leannan, and he will need a name,” Jamie smiled, looking at Claire before kissing her cheek. 

“What should we call it?” She looked at Ed with a grin. “I haven’t the slightest idea.” 

Edouard thought for a brief second, rubbing his chin and adjusting his glasses. “Adso.” 

“Adso Fraser,” Claire smiled, resting her head onto Jamie’s shoulder. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Sounds good to me, too,” Jamie agreed, holding her close. 

“The house is truly getting crowded,” Claire looked up at him, smiling. 

“Aye, ‘tis,” his hand rested on her bump, kissing her lips tenderly. “And ‘tis only getting started, Sassenach.” 

Edouard looked at them before turning his attention to Adso, “You will have to get used to them kiss all the time, Adz.” 


	5. And Then, They Were Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff, more fluff...and two new additions to the Fraser clan! 
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe xx

**Surrey, 1950  
**

On the 16th of April, at 3:39 a.m., on a clear winter night, the first cry resonated in the bedroom. It was broad and strong, from little lungs full of new life and vitality. A bundle of joy delivered in the arms of its exhausted, but delighted mother, who barely had time to register what was happening before a second wave of contractions came to hit her at once. 

At 3:47 a.m., the second cry resonated. It was equally as broad and strong, it came from little lungs full of new life and vitality, but it was rather... _unexpected_. 

As much as one bairn was awaited eagerly in the Fraser household, a second one was quite the surprise for Jamie and Claire. Even the midwife had panicked for a brief second before returning to her sense to deliver the surprise in question. 

Labour had lasted quite a while, draining Claire’s energy as much as it had amplified Jamie’s nerves and worries, but, thankfully, the delivery had been rather quick.

_And just like that, three became five._

“She has red hair, just like Da,” Ed pointed out, looking at one of the cooing twins in Claire’s arms. He had not been able to sleep for most of the night, eagerly waiting for his father to come and fetch him to meet his sister. When it turned out it was, in fact, _sisters_ , the little boy had been delighted. 

“Indeed, she does,” Claire nodded, smiling down at the bairn in question. She didn’t know how she ended up holding two babies instead of one, but she didn’t think she could be happier if she tried. 

“And this one has brown hair,” the little boy giggled, placing a delicate kiss on one twin’s head and then the other. 

“Aye, ‘twill be easier to recognize who’s who,” Jamie grinned and picked Edouard up. “But ye, my lad, will have to go to bed because ‘tis verra late. And the ladies of the house will need to rest too.” 

“Will they have names when I wake up?” he asked, looking at Claire while holding on to Jamie. 

“Most likely,” Claire smiled tenderly at him, exhaustion seeping behind her lids. “Goodnight, _mon chéri_.” 

“ _Bonne nuit, maman_ ,” Edouard blew her a kiss and waved before Jamie took him to his own room down the hall. 

For a moment, Claire was alone with her two little miracles; both sleeping peacefully in her arms. Watching them, she felt her heart growing in size — something that had happened only two times before: the time she met Jamie and the day she met Edouard. 

One of the twins opened her eyes slowly and looked at her, her tiny fingers opening and closing, trying to reach a loose curl that had escaped Claire’s messy bun. 

“Hello, you,” Claire whispered before placing a tender kiss on her daughter’s tiny nose. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

With that, the other twin awoke in turn, letting out a little coo. Claire turned her head towards her second daughter, smiling even more. “Oh and so are you,” she whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. 

“They take after their mam,” Jamie said, leaning against the doorframe as he watched his ladies in bed. 

“Their father isn’t too shabby either,” Claire grinned, looking up at him. 

Jamie walked slowly towards the bed. He hadn’t slept for the past seven hours. Neither of them knew what time it was. _Late night or early morning?_ But the unabashed happiness plastered all over his face was a good indication that he didn’t care about those insignificant details. 

“I’m in awe of ye, Sassenach,” he said, sitting down on the bed. Cupping her cheek, he stroked the sweaty skin of her face before leaning down to give her a kiss. 

“If it wasn’t for the aching body, I would think myself asleep right now,” she smiled against his lips. 

“Aye, same wi’ my aching hand,” he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. 

“Sorry about that,” she chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. 

“Sorry, huh? Ye were givin’ birth, Sassenach. Ye have nothin’ to be sorry for,” he smiled even wider, looking down at their daughters. “And no’ to one, but two wee bairns.” 

“That took an unexpected turn,” she watched as Jamie took one of the twins carefully. In his strong arms, their daughter seemed even tinier. As for the sight of Jamie holding one of their children, it was everything Claire had imagined. 

“A verra unexpected turn, aye,” he smiled, tracing the baby’s cheek with his index finger. “I didna think I could have been happier than when ye told me we were expectin’ a bairn, Sassenach. Knowing ‘tis was two now? Christ, I feel like my heart is about to burst.”

Rocking their other daughter gently, Claire smiled at him — tears at the edge of her eyes, ready to stroll down her cheeks. “I know exactly what you mean, darling. Thank God we got two baskets, we’ll have to use those as beds until we get a second cot.” 

“Dinna fash yerself, I’ll start on it as soon as possible,” he reassured her, kissing her temple.“There is still some wood left over from when I did the first cot.” 

“They are so lucky to have you as a father,” Claire said softly, kissing his cheek. 

“And ye as a mother, a nighean.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “So verra lucky.” 

Jamie sat next to her and leaned against the headboard in turn as she leaned against him. Together, in the quiet of the night, with the bedroom dimly lit by candles on the bedside table, they watched as their daughters drifted slowly to sleep for the first time. 

“The midwife will come back in the afternoon to see how ye three are doing. How are ye feeling, now?” Jamie asked softly, his finger held by one the twins popped up on his legs. 

“Exhausted,” she said truthfully but smiled. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier than I do right now.” 

“Ye should sleep,” he looked at her, with a slight bit of concern. 

“Yes but not just yet.” Smiling still, she stroked the baby’s fuzzy peachy head. “We need to name these little beauties, first.” 

“Since we couldna decide between two names, we dinna have to now,” he smiled in response. “We simply need to decide who’s a Grace and who’s a Margot.” 

“I think you have little Grace, and I have little Margot.”

“Let’s see,” Jamie leaned down and kissed the tip of the nose of the twin he was holding, “Ween...Grace?” 

After a few seconds, the baby stirred slowly and farted, prompting both of her parents to chuckle in silence. 

“Aye, I think she likes the name.” 

“I think she does too,” Claire agreed, smirking. “And it’s pretty obvious she is your daughter.” 

“Ah ah.” He nudged her softly before kissing her lips. “Ye’re a funny one, Sassenach.”

“I’m glad I can amuse you, my love,” she kissed him back, smiling. 

“Yer uncle is meant to arrive in a few days, he timed his visit perfectly.” Jamie said, laying the twins in between them on the bed before moving on his side to watch his three girls. 

“He did.” She moved on her side as well, resting her head in the palm of her hand. “But now, even with Lamb in the house, I’m not outnumbered anymore.” 

“‘Twill be good to have so many ladies around,” he beamed, holding Grace’s hand. “To keep us in check.” 

“I can only agree,” she leaned up to kiss him tenderly. 

“Oh, Sassenach,” Jamie got up carefully as not to wake up the girls and went to the chest of drawers to grab one of her cameras. “I almost forgot!”

“Darling,” she chuckled and shook her head.

“Nay, we’ll take a family one when yer uncle will be here but I want one of my ladies.” 

“Don’t move too much or it will be blurry with the light so dim, darling,” she smiled, looking down at the twins sleeping peacefully on the bed, both wrapped in their duvets. 

Nodding, Jamie loaded the film into the camera _— just like she had taught him once —_ and looked down through the viewfinder. 

“Dinna move, Sassenach...Three, two…”

_Click._

“Now, put that down and come rest with us,” Claire beamed, patting the mattress. “Between Edouard and those two, we won’t ever have a full night of sleep again. At least, not for a very long time.”

“Nay, we willna,” he smiled, laying on the bed again. “But I dinna think I care, mo nighean donn.” 

“Oh, neither do I,” she reached up to stroke his cheek. “This is all I ever wanted. You and our children, safe and sound, under the same roof.” 

“I dreamt of ye like this many times, Sassenach,” he responded, kissing the tip of her fingers. 

“Ye near me, wi’ our bairns around us. Twas what kept me goin’ durin’ the war and when I recovered from my injury. Back then, I ha’ hoped we werena goin’ through this for nothin’, and I was right. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me, Claire.” 

Claire grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing it delicately. This time, she couldn’t prevent the tears strolling down her cheeks. 

“I love you, soldier.” 

“And I ye, _mo neart_.”

“What does that one mean?” she asked, drawing her brows together in a frown. 

“It means my strength,” he smiled tenderly, wiping a tear off her cheek. 

***********

“How do I know they love me?” Edouard asked, laying flat on his stomach on the bed. His legs were crossed in the air and his head rested on top of his hands. As much as he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off his little sisters. 

“They just do,” Claire smiled, breastfeeding Margot while Grace laid safely in between her and Edouard. “And when they’re able to talk, they’ll let you know.” 

“Are you sure, maman?” He looked at her rather sceptically, re-adjusting his glasses. 

“When you saw them for the first time, you loved them immediately, _oui_?” 

He nodded, smiling widely, “Oui!”

“It’s exactly the same for them, my darling,” she stroked his cheek, smiling. “I promise you.” 

“Can I go get my storybook? The one Uncle Lamb brought back from Egypt. I want to read them a story while they eat.”

“Of course,” she nodded, watching him. 

“Do not move!” Edouard practically jumped out of bed and ran out of the room towards his own. 

“As if we’d be going anywhere,” Claire chuckled, rocking Margot against her shoulder for her to burp. 

“I’ve got the cloth, Sassenach,” Jamie walked in, smiling at the sight in front of him. He was as proud as punch ever since the twins were born a few days ago. 

“Thank you very much. I need another pair of arms to hold this one while I feed the other,” she smiled in return, looking at him. 

Jamie put the cloth onto his shoulder and took Margot carefully into his arms, kissing the brown fuzz of her hair. “Come wi’ me, a leannan. We gotta make sure ye’re digestin’ all this milk.”

“Where’s Ed?” he asked, walking around the room as he rocked the baby against his shoulder. 

“Gone fetching a storybook to read to the girls,” Claire grinned, starting to feed Grace. 

“What a good lad,” Jamie smiled proudly. 

“As good with the girls as you are, my love.” She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment while Grace leeched onto her breast. Yawning, she tried to remember what a full night of sleep felt like. 

“Ye know, Sassenach, I’ve been thinkin’,” Jamie sat down onto the bed, stroking Margot’s soft little head. 

“About what?” She opened her eyes again and looked at him. “And also, _how_? My brain has been mushy ever since the birth and you have had as much sleep as I’ve had.” 

“Aye aye,” he chuckled, kissing her lips. “I’ve been thinkin’ while ye slept in between feedings, actually. I canna bring myself to sleep, I want to watch my ladies.”

“I was thinkin’ that maybe, we could build a bigger home. After all, this wee cottage isna gonna be enough for all of us when these two grow up, and we’ve got a wee bit of land around here to do it. Lamb can use this place when he’s no’ travelling, and we can live next door.” 

“Plus, you said you wanted twelve children. We’re gonna need the space,” Claire joked. 

“Indeed, I did,” he grinned, getting up again. “But isna up to me to decide how many bairns we’ll have, a nighean. ‘Tis yer body.” 

“I gave birth five days ago, we’ll have this discussion some other time,” she chuckled, looking down at Grace, who had just grabbed her finger to hold onto. 

“I have the story!” Edouard announced proudly, holding the book in the air as he reappeared in the room. “I didn’t pick the one Uncle Lamb got me. I chose Snow White!”

“A great choice, my darling,” Claire smiled, moving aside to make some space for Ed. 

The little boy sat down next to her and looked up at Jamie. “Papa, are you joining us?”

“Aye, my lad,” Jamie smiled, sitting down next to Edouard on the bed. Margot had burped and was now sleeping soundly in her father’s protective arms. 

Edouard opened the book, cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Here we go…”

Claire looked at Jamie with a grin, resting a sleeping Grace against her chest after covering up again. Their son’s adult manners never ceased to amuse them. 

Edouard looked up at them both. “Excuse me, are you listening?”

“You haven’t started yet,” Claire grinned, kissing the tip of his nose. 

Giggling, he looked at his book again and started: 

_“It was the middle of winter, and the snow-flakes were falling like feathers from the sky, and a Queen sat at her window working, and her embroidery-frame was of ebony. And as she worked, gazing at times out on the snow, she pricked her finger, and there fell from it three drops of blood on the snow. And when she saw how bright and red it looked, she said to herself, “Oh that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the embroidery frame!*”_

What followed was an animated retelling of Snow White by Edouard — who, as a good big brother, made sure to add sound effects and impersonations to his story. A story that did not much impress the twins, as they were drunk with milk and asleep in their parents’ arms. 

At some point, Claire got up to lay Grace in her cot next to their bed before doing the same with Margot from Jamie’s arms. 

Once the twins were in bed, she sat on her husband’s lap to listen to the rest of the story Ed was so happily reciting.   
  
Leaning her head against Jamie’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and let herself be soothed by the sound of their son’s voice and her husband’s steady heartbeat against her. It didn’t too very long for her to fell asleep. 

“The End,” Edouard finally stated, yawning as he closed the book.

“I like fairytales, Papa” He rubbed his eyes, resting against Jamie with a smile. 

“So do I, duine beag,” Jamie smiled and looked at Claire, asleep in his arms. 

“So do I…” Kissing the top of his wife’s head, Jamie Fraser didn’t think he could get happier than he was right then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this passage is from Snow White by the Grimms brother.


End file.
